Of Bars and Bets
by TheShoelessOne
Summary: CHAPTER TWO: In which Ashe misses her skirt and Basch suffers.
1. Basch Loses a Bet & Balthier Break a Rib

**In Which Basch Loses a Bet and Balthier Breaks a Rib  
**

What had begun as a friendly game of poker had turned into a fiercely competitive game of poker--with swords. Of course, the finest Dalmascan mead had been an influence, as well as an unscrupulous unlabled bottle from somewhere deep in the _Strahl_'s hold. The air was thick with mistrust and alcoholic vapor, someone far off in the corner of the bar smoking a malodorous leaf and managing to intoxicate everyone seated at the table even further.

They had holed up in Rabanastre for the night, thinking one moment away from the duties of land and lord a forgivable dalliance. Penelo and Vaan, both too young to access the bar after nightfall, were ushered wordlessly upstairs and into their rooms. Vaan pouted with his arms and legs crossed like a defiant child. Penelo shook her head, tsked slightly, and shut off the light to get as much sleep as possible. Lady Ashe was persuaded by the charismatic Balthier to join Basch and himself downstairs for a pint and a game of cards before retiring. She reluctantly allowed herself to be led to the table. Basch was already waiting, a hefty, frothy mug of fermented hops and alcohol in one hand and a deck of worn cards in the other. Fran sat moodily aside, wrinkling her small nose at the loud drunken humes at the bar.

"Let's be done with this quickly, shall we?" Fran said in a lofty tone as some random young man toppled over drunk near her seat. One man had already fondled her long, furry ears that night. He lay crumpled and unconscious in a discreet corner--no one else had touched her since.

"I agree," Ashe said as Basch stood to pull out a chair for her. She took it politely, scooting close and feigning an interested smile. "I _am_ glad to spend time to ourselves."

"Come now," Balthier said heartily, placing his foot on the seat of his intended chair and leaning heroically on his knee. "The future queen of Dalmasca sitting here among her people--" he paused to stare comically at the man passed out beside Fran's chair, "--why, it's almost pastoral." He flashed a debonair grin in Ashe's direction, causing her to roll her eyes in return. He shrugged, as if that solved all problems, and sat leisurely with his arms behind his head.

Only half a minute later, a young woman and small Moogle arrived at their table. The woman placed a mug before Fran and Ashe, and the Moogle floated gently to place Balthier's mug before him. He tossed a shiny new gil through the air, and the Moogle intercepted it with a small grin of his own. Ashe stared questioningly down at the yellow, frothy liquid. Fran took small, polite sips. Balthier took one long swig, throwing his head back and smacking his lips. Basch, perhaps in a rare show of manly camaraderie, echoed the captain's movements. They clinked mugs, eliciting a short laugh from Balthier and a grin from Basch. Fran raised her eyebrows at the both of them.

"To friendship?" Basch asked, an uncharacteristic smile gracing his hard face. Balthier shrugged, then raised his drink a second time.

"To the spoils of chance and fortune."

The toast was just vague enough to entice Fran and Ashe to join.

After a short lull of small talk (they had very little to say that the others hadn't already heard at that point; Balthier's story of raiding the airship _Valence_ was beginning to get stale) another round of drinks was ordered. At that point, it became obvious that Ashe was a light drinker. After she had swallowed her way through half of the second round, her tongue untied itself and she began to speak freely for the first time in their company. Balthier swears to this day that he will hold those tales over her head for all eternity.

Eventually, the cards made their way out of Basch's abused deck. He dealt first, the game being a simple poker. The night turned at that point, and after the ninth round of drinks, the night exploded. Ashe teetered on her seat, held in place by a flushing and serious Basch fon Ronsenburg. Balthier tried his hardest to look suave with his feet on the table, crossed nonchalantly, but at intermittent intervals he would lose his balance and nearly fall to the stone floor. Fran stared down her nose at all of them, seven empty tankards beside her and little to evidence the fact but a slight sniffle she seemed to have caught sometime around the fifth round. At last, the hands were laid down--Balthier had somehow managed to accumulate five aces and a joker, along with a few pieces of scrap paper with nonsense scribbled on them. Basch's hand looked as any normal poker hand should, and even in his state, he could sense foul play when it was shoved so blatantly in his face.

Therefore, he was perfectly justified in splitting the table in half with his broadsword.

Balthier toppled to the ground, his footing lost, and Ashe would have joined him had Fran not stood and steadied her. The patrons of the bar halted their drunken activities to stare. Balthier tried for his gun, but the damned thing seemed cemented in its holster. Basch hefted his sword, then pointed it waveringly at the sky pirate.

"You think you can do whatever you want," Basch managed to slur, "just because you're so--"

"So _what_?" Balthier asked, his own voice unsteady and wavering, though he seemed determined to stay sober as possible. "So devilishly handsome? So roguishly clever? So damned _good-looking_?" Fran rolled her eyes and planted her face in her free hand, as to hide her shame. "I'm telling you, Basch fon Ressenburger, I have my choice of any woman here. Y'know why?" He pointed straight at his face, staring seriously up at the blond man. "_Raw sex appeal_."

"You could _not_ get a woman to sleep with you _just_--" Balthier stopped him by raising a finger.

"Oh really?" Balthier asked with a sideways grin. He wobbled to his feet, brushed himself and adjusted his shirt cuffs. Basch lowered his sword. In fact, he had quite forgotten why his sword was out of its sheath. Once it had disappeared, the patrons of the bar quickly forgot the episode and continued with their lives. Balthier made his way to a placid brunette at the bar, sitting alone with a single mug. Basch crossed his arms and stared on in defiance, hiccuping intermittently. "Excuse me," Balthier said to the woman as he leaned on the bar, "but where did you get those earrings?"

The woman touched said earrings lightly. "They were my mother's."

"Ah, because, you see, in my life as a _dangerous_ sky pirate, I come across beautiful earrings like those everywhere. But never have I seen such beauty as what sits here before me."

Fran suddenly stiffened, her ears flattening against her head. She let go of Ashe's shoulder, which Basch quickly caught before the princess crashed to the floor. Before the woman at the bar could get out a word edgewise, Fran was suddenly beside Balthier, her nails digging into his shoulder.

"He was _just_ leaving," she said in an icy voice never to be argued with. The viera dragged him back, protesting, to the split table, crossing her arms and fuming silently.

"That was hardly what I expected," Basch coughed, holding tight to the giggling, giddy, unresponsive princess. Balthier frowned slightly in Fran's direction, then his proverbial ears pricked up in an beautiful idea.

"Fran, what do _you_ think of my sex appeal?"

"_What_ sex appeal?" she retorted quickly, not even turning. Basch gave a sharp, low laugh, and Balthier's cheeks burned in embarrassment. The elder man shook his head.

"Balthier, if you get _one_ woman to kiss you, _maybe_ I'll begin to believe this nonsense."

"And my compensation?"

"I don't know. Winner's choice."

The captain jumped to his feet, holding out his hand. "We have an accord." Basch shook hands with the pirate with incredulous eyes.

"The offer ends tonight."

"I had a feeling it did." He smiled, and already Basch knew the plan formulating in his mind.

"Lady Ashe if **_off limits_**."

Balthier tried to act as if the thought had never crossed his mind and failed miserably. After so short a time together, Basch knew him through. Balthier nodded stiffly, then set off into the bar. The blond man shook his head and looked to Fran.

"Does he usually act this way?"

"Oh no," Fran answered, arms still crossed and eyes burning into the back of Balthier's head. "This is _tame_."

Basch decided the best thing to do was to take Ashe to bed; she would probably remember nothing of that night, and he figured that was for the best. He lifted her into his arms, then turned to Fran. She was to keep an eye on Balthier and make sure he didn't do anything reckless or stupid enough to endanger anyone. She assured him that she would keep him in line. The low drop in her voice left no room for questions. Once he had disappeared up the stairs with Ashe, Fran sat at the bar, crossed her legs and glared holes in the bar. Once, the barman asked if she would like anything, and she growled lowly. He did not return.

When her eyes were not trying to start a fire on the wood of the bar, they were following Balthier's miserable progress. He had already exhausted his options at the bar and had retreated to the dark tables in the back where the only action one could get was 200 gil an hour. Even they passed on his offer--his own supply of money was largely stashed throughout the _Strahl_ in places he thought clever. Fran's lips turned up in a sardonic smile as he was turned down yet again. His shoulders slumped, and though Fran could not hear the words exchanged, she could tell that his ego was taking quite the beating that night.

At last, the defeated hero returned to the bar, fell deflated into the barstool beside Fran and crossed his arms on the bartop before him. His head followed soon after, cushioned by his crossed arms. Fran held herself erect and stared down at the back of his head.

"Have you learned a lesson tonight, Balthier?" she asked. The sound of his response was muffled, but his words were clear.

"A man can only take so much rejection, my dear, before he fades out of existence himself."

"Just admit to Basch that you are not the best at everything."

His sad eyes peeked up at her from their prison in his folded arms. "What do you think, Fran?"

"Basch is right. You are cocky-- too much for your own good. It often gets us into more trouble than we deserve." One edge of her lips twitched up slightly.

"But I _am_ rather good at some things, aren't I?" He raised his head so he was on her level, staring questioningly in her eyes. She shrugged slightly.

"Of course. Everyone can be the best at something, but never the best at everything."

He smiled slightly at her comment, then sighed, defeated. "I am rather useless, aren't I?"

She witnessed the effect of her words, then sighed. "If you do not believe me, I will show you that you are good at some things." She took him by the back of the neck and he was pulled unceremoniously into her face. He didn't have time to be surprised by her sudden action, and he focused as intensely as he could on the kiss she had initiated, enjoying rather more than he believed he should have.

Fran pulled back, staring seriously into her captain's face. "You see--" Her features contorted as she was met with the childish grinning face of Balthier, teeth from ear to ear like a boy just given the best present imaginable.

"Gotcha," he said in a boyish tone. Fran's face fell, brows knitting angrily. "Ha **HA**!" Balthier shot to his feet, witnessing Basch with his mouth hanging open just five feet away. His finger shot out toward the man. "Ha! Again, Ha! I've won!" He did a short, drunken dance, then pointed again at Basch. "You. Tomorrow. A crowded square. _Ashe's skirt_." He sighed, arms akimbo in self-delight at a job well-done.

He wondered absently why the ground was approaching so fast.

When she had finished kicking him in the ribs, Fran glared up at Basch, dusting her hands off unceremoniously. The man raised his hands in a show of retreat, heading backward for the stairs. She nodded, then stared down at the prone figure of Balthier sprawled and moaning on the floor.

"I hope you have learned another lesson tonight, Balthier," she said, placing another swift kick to his side. "_Never_ trick a viera."

He didn't dare raise his head until she was gone. But he smiled with his swimming head against the cold stone. It was _very_ much worth it.


	2. Ashe Misses her Skirt and Basch Suffers

**In Which Ashe Misses Her Skirt and Basch Suffers**

Basch wondered vaguely how long he had been standing in front of Lady Ashe's door. He had been doing nothing but stare at the wooden frame and burnished brass doorknob for what felt like a day and a half. Fran had dragged Balthier up to his room an hour or three ago, the latter still complaining of the pain in his ribs. So it came to be that Basch was alone and standing like an open-mouthed idiot in front of the princess' door. The effects of the alcohol had unfortunately not yet worn off, and that was why he supposed that he had neither made a move to go inside nor turned for the safety of his own quarters.

Alcohol or no alcohol, Basch considered himself a man of his word. No matter how devious Balthier's motives may have been, he had made a gentleman's bet and had lost. He had granted Balthier the ability to set the wages, and at this point, they could not be higher. He ran a hand over his weary face. He still had a choice. What could Balthier possibly do should he not keep up his end of the deal? He was turning away from Ashe's door when he realized that he was suddenly face-to-face with the furrowed eyes of a viera. Basch managed a nod in greeting.

"Fran," he prompted. She settled her hands on her hips.

"Basch," she muttered lowly. "I suffered embarrassment tonight, as did Balthier. Yes, because of this 'bet' between the two of you. You think it just to run now?" He was more concerned with the fact that she hadn't been behind him just five moments ago, and he blinked despondently to that point. He didn't respond, but Fran knew that he had taken her hint by the glaze of fear in his drunken eyes. She nodded toward Ashe's door. "She sleeps; go now."

Before Basch could respond, she had turned and swaggered away toward Balthier's room. Amazing that the girl could switch so quickly from kicking a man ruthlessly to nursing his hangover and helping relieve the very pain she had caused. He purposefully tore his eyes away from her curving form back to Ashe's door. Resolutely, he steeled himself, sucking breath into his lungs, and turned the knob.

He didn't know who was responsible for oiling the hinges on the doors, but he reminded himself to thank someone later for the lack of sound as he entered Ashe's room. The lights were all out, as he had left them upon depositing her there earlier during the night. He ran a nervous hand over his face and began to creep forward into the darkness. A light shone in from outside, illuminating the peaceful and sleeping form of Princess Ashe. Basch practically had to slap himself on the face to return his thoughts to his head. The skirt. Stay focused. His eyes darted about the dim room, looking for the tell-tale bright pink skirt that Lady Ashe was so fond of.

That _everyone_ seemed to be fond of.

_SKIRT! Focus on the skirt. Dammit, Basch, stop acting like... like **Balthier!**_

At last, there it lay, folded neatly on the chair beside the bed, along with her folded shirt and assorted accessories. He eased the lump in his throat into his stomach. As his eyes flicked to her prone form, he saw the flimsy nightie and exhaled in relief. He didn't know if he could last another second in the room had she been..._ nude._

Before his thoughts could linger anywhere else, he grabbed the skirt from the chair and dashed from the room with all haste. As if to apologize for what was to come, Basch closed the door after him in the most gentlemanly fashion he could manage.

The morning light had not yet seized the sky when Basch began preparations for what he already considered the worst day in recent memory. He discounted the "traitor" incident; that was always bound to be number one on anyone's list. Before him, he held the small, pink skirt pinched between thumb and forefinger of each hand, staring at it incredulously. There was no way he could be expected to fit himself into that tiny scrap of fabric. Why, it barely managed to contain Lady Ashe.

A soul-destroying sigh filled him and escaped him in the most pathetic manner imaginable, and, grudgingly, he began to remove his pants.

* * *

Penelo awoke to a furious banging on her door. She squinted harshly against the sun seeping through the blinds. She stretched slightly, rubbed her eyes, then throatily gurgled: "Come in."

She only had a moment to wonder who would bang on her door. Certainly not Balthier. The man was charming and a bit of a charmer as well, but she knew better than to believe that, no matter how drunk, he might call on her. Fran was immediately discounted because of the frantic notes of the knocking; Fran would never stoop to emotion in such a way. Basch would have politely tapped and walked away before she could answer in fear of waking her. And Vaan snored away noisily in the other bed across the room. That left only—

Ashe tore wordlessly into the room, a sheet clutched to her chest, slamming the door unceremoniously after her. Vaan gave a snort and rolled over in his sleep. The animal-like fright in Ashe's normally calm eyes caused Penelo to sit up straight.

"Ashe? What's wrong?"

"You're the only one I can talk to," Ashe said desperately. Penelo noticed that the woman wore only a thin pink nightie under the white sheet she had tried to wrap about herself. "Penelo, I woke up this morning—I don't remember anything!"

"What are you talking about?" Penelo was on her feet and easing Ashe away from the door comfortingly. They sat on the edge of the bed, and Ashe's shoulders settled slightly.

"Last night, Basch invited me to join Balthier, Fran and himself for drinks downstairs. Normally, I would not even dream about such a thing, but—Basch asked… Well, I suppose I drank more than my fair share. I woke up this morning in my bed, my shirt folded on a chair and my skirt _missing_." She stared sadly into the young girl's eyes. "I don't remember what I did, or who—" She shook her head, not wanting to consider any of the possibilities. Penelo's hand was on her shoulder when another loud knocking assaulted her door. The girls jumped and Ashe's face flushed bright red as Balthier stuck his head in the door.

"Vaan!" He called loudly. The boy stirred slightly, snorting and confining himself in a cocoon of blankets. Balthier's eyebrows knit unpleasantly, and he stormed into the room. He grabbed the blankets and unceremoniously tugged them sharply from underneath Vaan's sleeping form. Vaan was quickly untangled and ended up face-first on the floor at Balthier's feet. He struggled to his feet, eyes wide and afraid.

"Eagh?!" He was not yet to the point of forming coherent words. Balthier grabbed the boy by his upper arm, wincing at the pain in his ribs, and pulled him to his feet.

"You _need_ to see this." His cryptic words hung in the air. Both Vaan and Balthier turned to the door at the same time, finally witnessing the women. Ashe pulled the sheet almost completely over her head, staring like a wounded deer at Balthier. He offered a grin. "Princess," he said with a slight bow of his head.

"Uhh?" Vaan mumbled, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Penelo looked from Ashe to Balthier to Vaan with as much comprehension as any of them. Balthier tugged on Vaan's arm.

"You may want to witness this as well, Highness," Balthier said as he stood in the doorframe. He shrugged lightly with an innocent grin on his face. "It may… _illuminate_ some things." Quickly, they had disappeared from the room, leaving the girls to baffle in their wake. Penelo quickly found an extra pair of her tight shorts and Ashe slipped them on in lieu of a skirt, adding her shirt as they ran to follow Balthier.

The girls followed Balthier, Vaan and Fran quietly, not speaking, until they came to the main square of Rabanastre. The normally loud rabble had quieted to a respectful murmur. Balthier stood like a conquering hero with arms crossed across his chest triumphantly, observing the horror he'd wrought. Fran shook her head, looking away as if the proceedings had nothing to do with her. Vaan looked as if he had thrown every ounce of strength into holding both hands over his mouth, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. Ashe stood on her toes to see over the crowd that had drawn, placing a hand on Vaan's shoulder to gain even more height.

What met her eyes burned into the back of her brain and haunted her for the remainder of her days.

"_BASCH_!!" She roared, face redder than a rogue tomato seen too much sun. All murmuring ceased at once, and Bach fon Ronsenburg of Dalmasca turned to face his princess with a white visage and saucer eyes.

The infamous short pink skirt was stretched to its limits around Basch's manly rear. His thick blond leg hair stood as contrast to the tight piece of clothing, curling many a lip in either disgust or fascination. He dared not move too much in fear of revealing anything to anyone, and he began to wonder how Lady Ashe got along so well in such a thing.

Vaan could no longer contain himself and he fell to his knees in laughter. Penelo was red from head to foot, trying to avert her eyes and failing. Balthier joined Vaan in his mirthless laughter, wary of the pain in his ribs. Fran glared at every single one of them.

Ashe strode forward through the crowd, stared the ex-captain straight in the face with set jaw and dangerous eyes. Wordlessly, she sent a jarring slap across his cheek that would have sent any other man reeling. She grabbed him by the upper arm and dragged him forcefully from the square. He followed with head down and face red in embarrassment. Vaan continued to roll in laughter.

"What were you thinking?!" She cried through the door to Basch's room at the Sandsea. He thankfully slid his own clothing back on before opening the door to the princess.

"It was a gentleman's wager between Balthier and myself."

She restrained herself from slapping him again, instead wrenching her skirt from his hand. She poked him painfully in the center of his chest, glaring death. He retreated slightly at her touch.

"From now on, Basch fon Ronsenburg, you will never steal clothing from any woman ever again." She poked at him furiously. "And promise that you will never, ever, _ever _drink with Balthier_ again!"_ He nodded, frightened, in reply. She turned away, crossing her arms and fuming silently. Before moving, she turned her head slightly in his direction, smirking devilishly. "It looked good on you."

She left him with those baffling words, leaving his jaw slightly ajar as he stood in the doorway, looking after the retreating form of his princess.

* * *

AN: The long-awaited, much-asked-for continuation of "Of Bars and Bets" is here! It's not very long, but I didn't think that'd be a problem. Hope everyone likes it. It may not be as funny... I dunno... Tell me what you think! I have an idea for another FFXII story; tell me whether or not you've had enough of me. See ya later, and keep reading! 


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